


Playing Doctor

by threewick



Series: Under The Suit [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eggsy Crushes On Merlin, Eggsy Gets Stitches And A Boner, Eggsy Is Harry's Beloved Sidepiece, Exhibitionism, Fist Aid Kink, Harry and Merlin Are Married, It is now, Kingsman Is One Big Gay Gang, M/M, Merlin Wants To Lovingly Wreck Eggsy, OT3, Porn Without Plot, They're All Gay, is that even a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewick/pseuds/threewick
Summary: “Galahad, I’ve got another agent who needs me for a moment but-”“Yes, go on, help Eggsy,” Harry snaps impatiently, words laboured and jostled.Eggsy merely blinks at Merlin, eyes wide and innocent, his lower lip oozing blood. It takes a moment until he echoes in a saccharine, plaintive tone, “Yes, Merlin, go on, help Eggsy.”---Eggsy interrupts Merlin guiding Harry through a mission because he needs a little extra tending to.





	Playing Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantomlove908](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlove908/gifts).



> Thank you to phantomlove908 for being quite possibly the best writing partner/idea generator out there, and to Emphysematous for being a world-class editor. And just generally to LelithSugar for being the unrequited love of my RP life and keeping me inspired on the daily. I hope yall like this because I like all of you.

“Fuckin’ _hell_ , Merlin.”

  
Eggsy shoves into the room in a crackle of unbound energy, bringing with him a faint smell of motor oil and copper. There had been no knock - of course there hadn’t - and Merlin doesn’t spare him a glance, holding up a single, silencing hand as he keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His nose is a hair’s breadth from a fuzzy diagram, his free hand busy at the keyboard as his gaze tracks the neon green dot moving through the maze of lines and corners.

 

Had that dot signified anyone other than Harry Hart, Eggsy would’ve been booted from the room without a second thought. By now, however, Merlin knows all too well how aggrieved Harry would be if he realized later that Merlin had ‘mistreated’ his golden boy. Certainly a gripe that would taint their pillow talk, though it wouldn’t be the first time Eggsy had featured heavily.

 

“Good, Galahad - good. Straight ahead, there’s a weak spot in the door there.”

 

Eggsy exhales pointedly, emphasizing the slight rasp to his throat before addressing Merlin in a moan.

  
“Merlin, look at me - I’m in pain, I’m suffering, I might be dying for all you fuckin’ know -”

 

Merlin lifts his hand again but this time with a much less polite gesture, ignoring Eggsy’s cluck of affront as he hastily keys in a series of numbers.

 

“That’s the target, the lock up top. I’ve sent the code to your glasses, put it in exactly as you see it and then get the hell out of there -”

 

“Merlin, give us a-”

 

“Eggsy, will you just shut up-”

 

“But Merlin-”

  
“Galahad, you’ve got company, incoming at your back, three armed-”

 

“Merlin, I’ve been _shot_.”

 

“ _What_?!”

 

The response is tandem, both Merlin’s and Harry’s faraway voice blurting it out together as Merlin swivels in his chair to finally look at Eggsy. Eggsy, who is standing in the doorway in his Kingsman-issued suit, looking bruised and battered but very much intact.

 

"... I mean, you know. The suit caught most of it. No holes or nothin'. ... But it _hurts_."

 

“For fuck’s sake, Eggsy,” Merlin snarls, his brogue gravelling the words further as he scrubs a hand over his face.

 

Over the speaker, Harry’s breathing has become laboured - he’s running, if the sudden speed of the little green dot is any indication, and there’s a grunt followed by a crunch of something heavy hitting what sounds like bone. The sound is viscerally, nauseatingly clear over Merlin’s computer speakers, magnified threefold from the usual muffled glasses speakers.

 

“ _What’s the matter with him? Is he alright_?” Harry demands, the words punctured by another thud and a sudden pit-pit-pit of gunfire through a silencer.

 

“Yes, he’s fine,” Merlin responds irritably, beckoning Eggsy over despite himself and pointing authoritatively at the chair nearest. “Bit battered, mostly melodramatic -”

 

“Oi!”

 

“-but fine. Follow that route, Galahad, it’s a bit of a maze but I’ve got it projected onto your glasses, and then straight out into the alley, there’s a van there, Bors is waiting with Guinevere.”

 

Eggsy gingerly obeys Merlin’s wordless command, favoring his left leg as he moves to settle into the chair angled towards him. Upon closer inspection, Merlin sees that he’s got the starting bloom of a grisly black eye and a telling necklace of fresh bruises ringing his throat, not to mention one hand pressed to his right side as he stares miserably at Merlin. His suit is littered with rips and scuffs, but Merlin can’t see any blood. Small relief.

 

“I ain’t being melodramatic, Merlin, I got proper shot, I can’t breathe without my side hurting, will you just look at it?”

 

“Eggsy, we’ve got a fully-staffed hospital for this _very_ purpose, I’m in the middle of a mission right now, for fuck’s sake-”

 

“I can’t _go_ to hospital!” Eggsy protests predictably, his voice climbing dangerously near a whine as he slumps further down into the chair, wincing as he does.

 

“ _And why the hell not_ this _time_?” It’s Harry’s voice this time, crisp over the speakers and followed by a series of arrhythmic clinks that sound very much like something bouncing across tile, something small and metal much like -

 

_BOOM._

 

The explosion is loud even from several countries away, Merlin’s mouth thinning as it’s wont to do when one of his agents needlessly uses a fucking hand grenade. Eggsy, of course, is unfazed, instead looking faintly sheepish as he presses four fingertips thoughtlessly to his jaw and gives it a few cautious flexes.

  
“Because,” he responds after a pause. “I had it off with one of the doctors there, the one with the legs, and I, uh, called her the wrong name.” He seems to sense Merlin’s growing irritation because he’s quick to defend himself, dropping his hand and splaying both out in front of him as though he can physically shield himself from Merlin’s ire. “Not - not _during_ , just a bit later. Look, honest mistake, I know she’s called Jenna, but now she gets all prod-happy when it comes to taking my vitals and I’m a bit too banged up to sit through that, you get me?”

 

Merlin exhales a short, sawed-off noise of aggravation, pressing his fingertips into his temple as though he can simply will away the headache that is Eggsy Unwin. Over the speaker, Harry is tellingly silent save for the ragged exhales that mean he’s running again, and when he encounters another adversary - “Look alive, Galahad, to your right,” - the ensuing sound of a pistol handle slamming into flesh seems a bit overzealous.

 

“Fine,” Merlin finally acquiesces, logging a few more keystrokes with his left hand as, with his right, he swipes things around on his screen.

 

“Galahad, you’re clear for now, straight shot to the exit. I’m right here watching the screen, I’ve got another agent who needs me for a moment but-”

 

“Yes, go on, help Eggsy,” Harry snaps impatiently, words laboured and jostled.

 

Eggsy merely blinks at Merlin, eyes wide and innocent, his lower lip oozing blood. It takes a moment until he echoes in a saccharine, plaintive tone, “Yes, Merlin, go on, help Eggsy.”

 

Merlin responds by leaning forward and pressing the tip of his index finger pointedly to the mottled bruise above Eggsy’s cheekbone. Eggsy yelps.

  
“Very well. Keep course, Galahad. I’ll, er, brief you on Eggsy back at home. For now, _focus_.”

  
It’s with an exasperated expression that Merlin seizes the arm of the wheeled office chair and yanks Eggsy closer, reaching beneath his desk with his free hand and dragging a medical kit seemingly out of nowhere.

 

“A proper boy scout, always prepared,” Eggsy smirks, still clinging to humor even though the smile makes him wince. Merlin very nearly tells him to fuck off but beneath the cockiness Eggsy _does_ look as though he’s genuinely suffering, and not only is he not without sympathy but he has a feeling his bleeding-heart husband would have his bollocks if he dismissed Eggsy in this particular time of need.

  
“The mission went well, I take it?” is the only reply Merlin makes, carefully unpacking the sterile kit across his desk and taking inventory of everything in it. Eggsy exhales another slow, careful breath, split-knuckled hand still pressed to his side as he nods. Merlin doesn’t catch the greedy way his eyes flicker over the medical accoutrements.

 

“Yeah, we got him, handed him over to Interpol. Practically tied up with a fucking bow, all the good they did.”

 

“What happened to you, then?” Merlin brings a hand to Eggsy’s face, fingertips alighting gently on his jaw to turn it this way and that, feeling along the ridge of bone for swelling and breaks. There’s swelling but nothing to suggest it goes deeper than a bruise; that can wait, and he drops his hand to feel carefully along Eggsy’s throat, frowning slightly at the rasp in Eggsy’s breathing.

 

“Had to jump out of a moving car, fucked me right up. Then I catch the wanker and he fucking _shoots_ me, right in the side - right here.”

 

Merlin doesn’t need to glance down to know that Eggsy is referencing the careful hand pressed to his ribs though he’s willing to bet it’s nothing worse than a few cracks. If there’d been any full breaks, Eggsy wouldn’t be able to sit let alone walk in here.

 

“Alright, alright, lad - take it easy,” Merlin murmurs soothingly, the two fingertips resting over Eggsy’s pulse feeling his anxiety at the mere memory of it. The words have an instant effect, Eggsy exhaling a rough, pulling breath and sagging into the chair, his eyes falling closed as he leans his head back. Good, Merlin thinks; far easier to work this way, without your patient staring at you apprehensively.

 

From the computer there comes a sudden barrage of furious, muffled French and an ensuing grunt that is recognizable as Harry’s. A sudden, sound smack and then ringing silence. All of this happens in an instant and is followed by more quiet, Harry’s vitals still blipping across the bottom of the screen in a comforting portrait of numbers and lines.

 

“There’s not much I can do for your bruises, Eggsy, but let’s get this off - go on, there’s a good boy-”

 

Eggsy gives a pitiful whimper in response to this, one that Merlin mistakenly assumes is tied to the jostling of his sore ribs. It takes a moment to pull away all the layers of fabric - fabric far too heavy to be anything _but_ suspect as armor - and when they get down to his undershirt, Merlin lets out a hiss of shocked indignation.

 

“What the hell is this?” he demands, moving his fingers very deftly as he peels the shirt - once white, now stained a deep brownish-red - away from a wound on Eggsy’s chest.

 

“ _What is it?”_ Harry demands in a sharp whisper over the comms, pressing a wrinkle of aggravation into the bridge of Merlin’s nose. Merlin doesn’t answer straightaway, too busy rifling through the heavy suit pieces in his hands to see how he’d missed this; the rip over the chest isn’t very big, and the blood hadn’t soaked all the way through. How, he has no idea.

 

“I _told_ you I was dyin’!” Eggsy whines in response, though he has the decency to look a bit sheepish as he glances down at the dark, bloody streak about two inches above his right nipple.

 

“Right, well, _this_ ’ll need stitches,” Merlin snaps irritably, though his hands maintain their gentle, caressing manner as he rips open a sterile wipe packet with his teeth and sets to cleaning the wound.

 

“ _Merlin_ -” Harry tries again, his voice still quiet, furious, promising a swift and painful retribution.

 

“Eggsy’s got a laceration on his right pectoral muscle, mostly superficial though it will need to be stitched to prevent scarring. Focus on your mission, Galahad.”  
  
Harry exhales heavily enough for it to crackle the feed between his mic and their speakers. Merlin glances up just in time to catch the tailend of Eggsy’s fond, wistful glance over toward the computers, dropping his gaze and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The pair of them were so fucking transparent.

 

He is careful not to hurt Eggsy unnecessarily but it seems like there’s no way around it; the antiseptic stings, and Eggsy is squirming in his seat as he presses the back of his head into the headrest, his free hand curled into a white-knuckled fist atop the armrest. Merlin murmurs soft platitudes, going through sterile wipe after sterile wipe, each of them coming away less red than the last though there is still a dried crust of blood over the wound itself.

 

Merlin glances up and hesitates a moment, not wanting to immediately begin attacking Eggsy anew if he’s this undone just by him wiping down the inflamed flesh around it. He’s never known Eggsy to be particularly sensitive to pain; maybe this is worse than he’d thought, a worry exacerbated by the way Eggsy is staring at the ceiling with a look of fierce focus, his cheeks flushed and his breathing shallow.

  
“Eggsy, if it’s this bad, you should probably just go to-”

 

“ _How bad?_ ” Harry demands, the words underscored by the sudden slap-slap of his combat boots pounding wet concrete.

 

“Galahad, I will turn your comms off if you can’t bloody focus,” Merlin snaps, scrubbing a tired hand over his eyes.

 

“It’s not bad, fuck I’m sorry Merlin, it’s just that I - I’m -”

 

“ _Eggsy, what is it?_ ”

 

A muscle in Merlin’s cheek jumps and he furiously rips open another sterile pad to quell the aggravation at being so thoroughly ignored. It’s the downward cast of his eyes that solves the problem, his gaze catching and blinking dumbfoundedly at Eggsy’s crotch. Dumbfounded, because Eggsy is impossibly hard, so stiff that Merlin can make out the distinct shape and size of his cock where it’s trapped between his thigh and his trousers - he can see the lip of the corona, the strong, proud line of the shaft, the surprising thickness of him and what the fucking hell is he _doing_ ogling Eggsy right now? And more than that, why the fuck is Eggsy hard?

 

Merlin lifts his head, expression creased with shock and the beginnings of fury, only to see that Eggsy is practically beet-red, miserable and embarrassed and battered and still bleeding slowly. He responds to Merlin’s unasked question with a feeble shrug, mouth downturned in a look of pure wretched shame, and fucking hell if Merlin’s heart doesn’t go out to the little weirdo.

 

So _that’s_ why he always avoided hospital.

  
“For fuck’s sake, Eggsy,” Merlin murmurs, not unkindly, shaking his head slightly as he resumes his task, unfolding the sterile wipe. Eggsy, misreading, shifts as though to stand up, his face screwed up into something hangdog and pitiful, and Merlin is quick to seize him by the thigh and keep him rooted firmly in the seat.

 

“Oh, no. No, you’re not going anywhere, lad. Not until I’ve got you nice and patched up. Do you understand me?”

 

He doesn’t mean it as anything other than what it is - he really won’t let Eggsy walk away when he’s got a rip in his chest and potentially cracked ribs - but the boy actually _whimpers_ . The noise makes something dormant and lazy deep within him stir, flexing its liquid shoulders and perking up, though he resolutely ignores it. Whatever this is, he doesn’t think it’s meant for him; and what _is_ this? Is there a name for a first-aid kink? Because if there is, Merlin sure as fuck doesn’t know it, and he prides himself on knowing everything.

 

“ _Where is he going? Merlin? Merlin-_ ” Harry’s panic is palpable, even from countries away.

 

“Nowhere,” Merlin interrupts, his voice once again even and steady, control of the situation reinstated to his grip. “Nowhere, Galahad. He’s fine. We’re working on his chest.”

  
And then lower, in murmur so low he doubts that Harry can even make it out at this distance from the mic, Merlin addresses only Eggsy as he begins to clean the wound again. “Just let go, Eggsy. It’s only me and you, alright? You haven’t got to be embarrassed, boy, I won’t tell a soul. But if you stay tense then that’s only going to make it harder to tend to you - and you want me to tend to you, right? You’d like that?”

 

And the sound that Eggsy makes in response to _that_ is absolutely filthy, his  head falling back as a low, rolling groan drags out of his chest, betraying the discretion that Merlin had been careful to cultivate because there is no way in hell Harry’s not heard it. No way in hell that he’s not pinpointed it for exactly what it is, because that had _not_ been a noise of pain; it had been unmistakably sex, and sure enough there’s only a heartbeat before Harry’s voice comes over comms again, sounding fierce and quiet and furious and confused and a distinct shade of stiff that Merlin recognizes as envious:

 

“ _Merlin, what the bloody fucking hell are you doing to Eggsy?_ ”

 

“Harry - _Galahad_ \- if you can’t focus on your mission then I will mute my end. Eggsy, would you like me to mute this room or would you like to let Agent Galahad hear me helping you?”

 

His hands have stilled at Eggsy’s chest and his eyes are on Eggsy’s now, asking the silent question - and Eggsy, swallowing sharply, gives a single, shallow jerk of his chin. A nod. Never in this life would Merlin have guessed how passive Eggsy Unwin was capable of being - no, how passive he apparently _loved_ being. The spoiled brat, poured into his seat, a walking bruise, mewling as someone else tends to him. And fuck, if that isn’t somehow doing it for Merlin, too.

 

Harry seems to have weighed his options since he’s speaking again, voice dropped to a whisper this time and words coming rapidly, something about wanting to help, but Eggsy cuts in with a sudden, blurted-out confession, silencing Harry Hart quicker than Merlin thinks anyone else has ever managed.

 

“Harry, I get hard when people bandage me up an’ fuss over me an’ shit. That’s… that’s it. Merlin’s doin’ me a solid and handling it so I haven’t got to explain why I’ve got a fuckin’ hard-on to the nurses. He’s not touching me or nothing.”

 

And after _this_ comes a very pregnant pause, Merlin waiting with the wipe patiently in hand, blinking at Eggsy with a streak of pride and approval in his gaze, Eggsy staring right back with blown pupils and parted lips. At least until Harry responds, when Eggsy presses his mouth closed and his throat bobs with a sudden nervous swallow.

 

“ _... Would you like him to_?”

  
Merlin is careful not to break eye contact with Eggsy, keeping his own expression even and unreadable, hoping the sudden uptick in his heartrate isn’t as traitorously audible as it feels. He’s not a teenager, he shouldn’t be so susceptible to a mere suggestion, but Eggsy is Eggsy and he’s only human. The only reason he wouldn’t have done a thing if given the chance is out of respect for Harry, but here Harry is, handing him permission.

  
If Eggsy should say yes.

 

“Yes.”

 

Harry exhales shortly though it’s not anger or irritation: he, too, seems overwhelmed at the sudden turn of events, aroused unexpectedly, the evidence of which is buzzing across the computer screen in his own increased heart rate. Merlin can’t help but think this is not wise to be doing while Harry is on a mission, but he also isn’t foolish enough to fucking _stop_.

 

“ _Very well, then. I can’t think of more capable hands for you to be in, my darling. Just be very, very loud for me,_ ” Harry purrs, and Eggsy blinks, wide-eyed and still bleeding, at Merlin.

 

Merlin, who immediately resumes his task as though the entire exchange hadn’t happened, leaning forward and pursing his lips slightly as he frowns at Eggsy’s chest. He sets to cleaning it in earnest now that he’s been given the go-ahead and Eggsy immediately tenses at the sting, inhaling sharply. Merlin responds by splaying a long-fingered hand across Eggsy’s left pectoral, calming and warm, and the effect is instantaneous: Eggsy melts back into pliancy, his breathing ragged but otherwise relaxed into the seat as Merlin wipes away the clotted blood.

 

“Very good Eggsy, clever boy,” Merlin murmurs absently, and Eggsy writhes beneath his hand, flexing his shoulders and pushing needily into Merlin’s touch, into the burn of the alcohol. He’s a proper fucking masochist, Merlin thinks with a streak of arousal; they’d make a good pair, at least in this. A matched set, sadist and masochist. And Harry, a little of both, to tip the scales for fun.

 

“I’m going to have to stitch you up, Eggsy, can you handle that? I don’t know if you’ll like -”

 

“Yes,” Eggsy gasps, abandoning all pretense as he drops his chin to blink glassily at Merlin. “Yes, Merlin, fuck, please - please.” He’s clutching the armrests now as though to keep from touching Merlin, touching himself. Merlin’s hand is still a weight on his chest but he trails it down, earning another pleading whimper from Eggsy, and fuck if he isn’t so absurdly responsive to every touch even as Merlin lets his hand press gently against Eggsys taut abdomen.

 

“Alright. I’ll need two hands for this, love. It’s going to hurt, but -”

 

“ _Eggsy, d’you want to show Merlin your cock, darling? Will that help? You can show him while he patches you, how is that?”_

 

The suggestion takes Merlin aback though he keeps his surprise hidden behind a neutral expression; the same cannot be said for Eggsy, who blanches.

  
“I - My - Harry, come on,” Eggsy cajoles weakly, trying for amused though his averted gaze is widened with the distinct deer-in-headlights brightness of someone caught.

 

_“Go on, love - he’ll like it. He likes to watch, likes pretty things. Tell him, Merlin - he likes being told what to do, and you like telling. Tell Eggsy you want it.”_

 

Merlin is reminded sharply that Eggsy and Harry have done this before. Perhaps not _this_ , but they’ve been together for awhile now, something that Harry is particularly smug about around the house, in bed with Merlin. Harry knows some of what Eggsy likes and he’ll walk him through this, something that seems to turn Eggsy on as much as it does Harry. And fuck, Merlin too.

 

Merlin really should’ve guessed that what Eggsy likes starts with good old fashioned exhibitionism.

 

“Do you want to show me, Eggsy? Because I really want to see,” Merlin says gently, cautiously, not wanting to strongarm him into doing something he’s not comfortable with though he’s not quite able to conceal his own straining arousal.

 

“Yes - yes, fuck, yes please,” Eggsy practically splutters, utterly abandoning all pretense and half his dignity. Merlin bites back a short, throaty noise of shocked delight as over the comms, Harry exhales something similar.

 

“Go on, then. Show me that pretty cock of yours.”

 

Eggsy practically rips the zip of his trousers, actually _does_ rip the button off in his haste to undo them, moving sharply and wincing as each movement jostles his ruined torso. But then he’s done it, his trousers are peeled back and he’s flopped back against the back of his chair, breathing harder and clutching his bruised ribs again and staring ravenously at Merlin as though waiting for him to react.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long; Merlin utters a sharp noise of his own, one that makes Harry huff a smug noise over the comms.

 

“ _It’s lovely, isn’t it?_ ” Harry agrees in damn near a purr, something he really shouldn’t have the attention for when he’s attempting to escape a life-or-death situation.

 

“Very,” Merlin agrees, though it’s meant for Eggsy. Eggsy, who’s staring at Merlin like Merlin is maybe the most captivating thing he’s ever seen, his expression open and needy and pleading and so utterly submissive that Merlin thinks he can physically feel his self-control ebbing away in waves.

 

And Eggsy’s cock _is_ pretty, proud and flushed and curving towards his belly. Merlin withdraws his hands from Eggsy’s stomach with some difficulty and sets to getting the closure kit out, readying the sterile needle and the suture thread, trying and failing not to glance up at the tableaux set before him: Eggsy, bruised and bloody and poured into a seat with his legs spread wide open and his cock out and hard, staring reverently at Merlin as though Merlin is god himself.

 

“Ready?” Merlin asks needlessly. Eggsy nods tightly, closing his mouth momentarily to swallow again. Merlin tries and fails not to follow the flex of his throat with his eyes.

 

It’s only a momentary distraction and then he’s at Eggsy’s chest, piercing the skin quickly and smoothly and working in tight, methodical precision. The first prick is met with the tiniest inhale from Eggsy; he bucks up into nothingness and Merlin feels the heat of his cock press to his elbow, makes a point to ignore it.

 

“Be still, Eggsy, hold still - show me what a good boy you can be -”

 

A sharp, higher noise, bitten out and desperate, and Harry hums his approval over the comms.

 

“Ah, you like that? Being told how good you are?”

 

“Yes,” Eggsy exhales, the word tight and thin, as though tongued past his teeth with great effort.

 

“Well you are, lad - such a good boy. Sitting so pretty, so neatly, getting stitched up so well-”

  
“Fu- _uuuck_ ,” Eggsy swears, his voice cracking and his hand twitching and falling back onto the armrest. He wants to touch himself, that much is obvious, but it’s also blatantly clear he won’t do anything without instruction, and Merlin wants to put this to the test - maybe not now, but eventually. Ideally with Harry present.

 

It’s quick work and then the split in his skin is sealed, Merlin gently taping the dressing over it. Eggsy shivers visibly under his touch and Merlin is gratuitous with it, dragging his fingertips over the planes of Eggsy’s chest - sharp, strong swells of muscle, ridges of it, defined and gorgeous, sun-golden skin, small, dark nipples. He’s staring at all of it, memorizing it, and it isn’t a conscious decision but then he’s dragged his right hand down low, brushing his knuckles absently along the length of Eggsy’s cock.

 

“Merlin, Merlin, yes, please, _please,_ ” Eggsy babbles, the words going straight to Merlin’s own cock as he continues the careless, barely-there touch.  

 

“It’s time to tape up your ribs,” Merlin tells him casually, feeling the affected area with careful fingertips and marveling privately at how Eggsy can wince at the pain and groan with arousal simultaneously. He’s bucking greedily up against Merlin’s hand now, needy and wanton, and Merlin realizes that the sharp bite of pain is what’s spurring him on - he presses down a bit harder, watches enraptured as Eggsy shouts out a noise of pure filth littered with curses, begging and pleading and even a bit of threatening: “-Merlin, I swear to fucking god, _please_ -”

 

“Calm down, Eggsy, calm down,” Merlin instructs him sharply, the words having the effect of a much harsher reprimand since Eggsy instantly slams his mouth shut, blinking at Merlin with wide, glassy eyes. Merlin murmurs praise - ‘good, very good, clever boy’ - and rewards Eggsy by wrapping his hand around the leaking head of his cock, dragging his fist down in a slow, languid pull that has Eggsy slamming his head backward against the headrest and groaning through his teeth.

 

He presses experimentally against the bruised ribs and feels Eggsy’s cock twitch thickly in response, the head of his cock a needy, vivid flush as he attempts to shallowly fuck Merlin’s fist.

 

“Yes, Eggsy, go on, lad, go on,” Merlin urges in a murmur, using his free hand to carefully and efficiently lay out the things he’ll need to tend to Eggsy’s side. He picks up the pace, working Eggsy over properly now, and uses his teeth to tear the adhesive backing off of one of the dressings; the sound makes Eggsy shudder and swear, the little pervert, and Merlin bites down on a grin, moving quickly now as he does what he can for the bruising - not much, but at least Eggsy will be reminded by the dressings to handle himself gingerly. Not that Merlin is handling him particularly gingerly at the moment.

 

“That’s it, Eggsy - that’s it. You’re done. I’ve done what I can, you’ll have to be careful with that side, I can stop touching you if you’d like -”

 

“NO,” Eggsy bites out, eyes flying open as he stares pleadingly at Merlin. He’s clutching the armrests again, his gaze utterly wrecked with lust, and it’s very clear to Merlin that’s close to coming - very, very close.

 

“Merlin - Merlin, please, touch me, touch me more, hurt me, Merlin - fuck, fuck - Merlin, _fuck_ me,” Eggsy gasps, the idea dawning and breaking behind his eyes as he scrambles and winces in his attempts to sit up in his chair.

 

Something in Merlin’s chest tears itself unchained and roars - it’s all he can think about now, stiff and straining against his own pants. Tearing away the rest of Eggsy’s battered armor and bending him over something, laying him across his desk, pulling him onto his lap. Telling him to spread himself wide, a hand digging five white spots into each cheek, his tight hole exposed for Merlin to kiss, to taste, to touch and to fuck…

 

“No,” Merlin exhales raggedly, his eyes flinty and dark with his own rude desires, his hand moving fast along Eggsy’s cock as he speaks. “No, Eggsy - not yet. Not like this. You come to me when you _really_ want to play, boy - when you really want to hurt. And then I’ll fuck you properly.”

 

They’re the magic words.

 

Eggsy comes, hard, his cock flexing and hot in Merlin’s grip, painting Merlin’s carefully sterile work with his own come, messing his stomach and up to his sternum as Eggsy groans flatly through it, one hand shot out to fist in Merlin’s jumper and yank him lewdly forward so Merlin’s nose is pressed into the bruises ringing his neck. Eggsy smells like blood and petrol and sweat, and Merlin is so fucking turned on.

 

It takes a moment for Eggsy to come down but when he does he doesn’t release Merlin straightaway; he slackens his grip, allowing Merlin to straighten slightly and making eye contact possible. They stare at one another a moment, Eggsy panting and Merlin with hellfire behind his eyes, the silence in the room otherwise absolute.

 

At least until the comms crackle to life, and Harry’s voice interrupts smoothly:

 

“ _I told you he liked you, Eggsy. He’s grown to be just as fond as you as I have - haven’t you, Merlin_?”

 

“Ah hell, Harry, I can’t believe - I’m sorry, I haven’t even checked the screens, are you-”

 

“ _Oh, I’m in the back of the van. We’re about ten minutes outside of the hold. Bors and Guinevere send their love, but I told them you were a bit preoccupied at the moment, and you’d report in later._ ”

 

Harry’s voice is pleasant and absolutely, impossibly _smug_ . Merlin grimaces; Eggsy chances a small, open-mouthed smirk, one side of his mouth quirking upward though there’s an edge of shyness to it.  
  
“ _But as I was saying. Haven’t you, Merlin_?”

 

Merlin bites down hard enough on his back molars for a muscle to jump in his cheek. He’s still staring straight into Eggsy’s eyes, Eggsy’s come messing his knuckles, Eggsy’s blood staining his palms, Eggsy’s sweat smudged on the bridge of his nose.

 

“Yes. Yes, I have,” Merlin admits tersely, and Eggsy’s face breaks into a wide, genuine grin, one that immediately reopens the split in his lower lip.

 

“ _Ah, good. Because just the other day Eggsy told me he might be ‘half in love with you’, so -_ ”

 

“HARRY!” Eggsy yelps, his face flushing again. Merlin thinks he quite likes that particular shade of red; he wants it in a wine, or perhaps a pair of cufflinks. Eggsy Red.

 

“I told you that in _bed_ , mate, you’re not supposed to go blabbin’ on about it - look, I only didn’t think you liked me since I was shaggin’ your husband and all -”

  
“If I didn’t like everyone Harry shagged, I’d have precious few friends at Kingsman,” Merlin replies dryly, still very close to Eggsy. Harry huffs again. Eggsy smirks again.

 

“So… So you _do_ like me?”

 

“We’re not doing this kumbaya bollocks, Eggsy. I’ve got your come on my hand and your blood on my wrist, of course I like you.” Merlin’s voice is curt, dismissive, and he might be imagining it but he thinks he sees Eggsy’s face fall. He can practically feel Harry’s admonishing gaze from over the airwaves, and he exhales in a push before seizing the moment and pressing his mouth in a slow, hot kiss to one of the bruises on Eggsy’s throat. Eggsy gasps sharply.

  
“And if you need anyone to patch you up again… You know where to find me.”

 

Eggsy glows like dawn.

 

“ _Or to hurtfuck you_ ,” Harry adds helpfully, sounding oh so goddamned smug.

 

“Fuck off, Harry,” Eggsy and Merlin say in tandem.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eggsy's a f r e e k. Now I want to write his and Merlin's first time because let's be real, we all are too. Hope you liked it! if you have questions or ideas, come find me on tumblr at threewickfic ♡


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